


No Peace for the Good

by subjunctive



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dialogue Heavy, F/M, New Caprica, Politician Lee Adama, Sexual Tension, past Kara/Lee - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25683265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subjunctive/pseuds/subjunctive
Summary: One conversation on New Caprica changes everything for Lee.
Relationships: Lee "Apollo" Adama/Laura Roslin
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, folks. Enjoy this first bit of a fic I started in the spring and never finished. This takes place just after they start colonizing New Caprica. I've written a bit more, it just needs editing. The title is the second half of the saying that starts "no rest for the wicked."

The sunset was disappointing, decided Lee. He’d come all the way out here up into the jagged foothills of the mountain for nothing but a smudge of color hiding behind omnipresent gray clouds. It was his third night on New Caprica, and his last, and he’d been hoping for something a little more beautiful. The sunset the night before had been nicer, if not exactly gorgeous. He’d watched it with Kara, and they’d agreed that anything was a million times better than nothing.

But he wasn’t thinking about Kara. Or he was trying not to, anyway. He was trying to think about anything else. But it was like trying to shove a train off a track. It just kept coming back around.

He shouldn’t have come out here. He should have stayed at the festivities, got drunk off his ass. But he couldn’t stand seeing them, couldn’t stand the congratulations and the gossip that seemed to follow him around no matter where he went, who he talked to. He’d spent most of the day drinking and, now exhausted and his head swimming, had found himself a rock in the middle of nowhere with a terrible view, and parked himself on it. 

“Good evening, Commander.”

The voice came from behind him. Quiet, but it carried. He knew who it was before he turned. She was naturally unobtrusive—unless she didn’t want to be, and then you couldn’t help but notice her. “Did you follow me all the way out here?”

“I saw you breaking off from the—celebrations.” Laura Roslin was carefully dividing her attention between him and picking her way over.

“Not much celebrating going on here, honestly.” He didn’t think before the words came out of his mouth. Too much of the Chief’s moonshine sloshing around in his head.

“No?” She gestured gently at where he was sitting. “May I—?”

Belatedly he realized what she was requesting. He’d managed to find the only rock worth sitting on. He was in a bad enough mood that he considered letting her wobble on her heels, but then sighed and slid to the ground, since there was a good chance he’d fall over if he stood. “Please, sit here.”

“Thank you for your rock, Commander.” She perched on it neatly, smoothing her skirt underneath her and keeping her feet together.

“No problem, Madam President.” The title was automatic; he didn’t remember it was no longer accurate until about two seconds too late.

“Oh, you can’t call me that now. It’s Laura to you.” Her tone was a mix of playful and bitter.

“Only if you call me Lee.”

She mused aloud. “I don’t like ‘Commander’ much anyway. It just doesn’t have the ring of ‘Captain.’ Commander Apollo. No, that doesn’t work. Very well, I agree. Lee.”

“Laura,” he returned. It sounded unnatural. But she smiled at him.

“So you’re not celebrating either?”

He offered her a tight smile. “Forget I said that. Don’t want to ruin anyone’s good mood.” 

“You think my mood is good?”

“Well, no, it’s understandable . . .”

He watched as she pulled a cigarette out of her blazer pocket and lit it. “Don’t be shy,” she said around it. The cigarette tip cast a warm glow over her face, brighter than the sunset.

“You gonna share that?”

She took a puff, and then handed it over silently, pinched delicately between her fingers.

“After everything that happened . . .” He trailed off again.

“Are you referring to how I tried to steal an election so we wouldn’t settle here, yet failed, and now we’re stuck on this frigid mudslide of a planet?”

It took him a minute to process her words, and it was hard to tell whether she was serious or just referring to the rampant rumors. She looked serious. There was a tight feeling in his chest.

“So, did you try to steal it?” He was aware his voice caught on the words, but he couldn’t stop it.

“Oh, yes.” She plucked the cigarette from his unresisting fingers and took a long, deep pull. Her eyes were closed as she held it in, then breathed it out shakily, despite the confidence of her words.

It was a bitter surprise to find that he could still be disappointed. He’d thought his spacewalk had taken care of that, made him into the kind of ruthless pragmatist who could kill black market criminal kingpins when it was necessary. He’d thought he was a cynic. But it turned out he still had some ideals. Some hope left yet to dash. This wasn’t like Admiral Cain: it was somehow much worse.

“Do I disappoint you?” she asked gently. She was smiling, but it was sad.

He struggled to respond. “Did you have a good reason?”

“I certainly thought so. Part of me still does think so. Your father confronted me about it. Do you want to know what convinced me?”

“What?”

“I thought of what you’d think of me if you ever found out. My first thought was, I’ll never let him find out, so it doesn’t matter. Then . . . I imagined what it would be like to work with you every day, to look you in the eyes when you wouldn’t know, but I would.” Her voice shook, and she took a steadying drag from the cigarette. “And then I realized—I can’t do it. Of course I can’t do it.”

“You called it off because of me?” 

“Are you so surprised?”

“It’s just been twenty-four hours full of surprises for me.”

“Not all bad, I hope.”

Lee smiled, this one more genuine, less forced than the others. “That one wasn’t the worst.”

She lowered herself from the rock onto the ground, so that she was shoulder-to-shoulder with him in the dirt. It took a minute for her to rearrange herself, constrained by her heels and her pencil skirt.

“Now you know why I’m unhappy,” she said. “What about you? You should be out there celebrating with all the other young people. And the not-so-young people.” She waved over her shoulder, at the boisterous, delirious landing party they’d left behind.

Lee pulled out his flask, unscrewed the cap and took a sip. He’d refilled it before leaving, so it was still mostly full. “Had kind of a bad day.”

She gave him a look. “Now I expect you to share that with me, you know.”

He handed it over, watching as she threw back her head. The white line of her throat bobbed as she swallowed. She shuddered all over and breathed deep. “That is disgusting,” she commented. Her voice had taken on a deeper note, more real and raw than the soft, persuasive tones of what Lee thought of as her professional voice. He only heard her real voice once in a while, and he liked it.

“That’s the Chief’s moonshine for you.”

She dabbed at the corner of her lips and seemed to consider her next words. “Romantic troubles?”

He snagged the flask. “Is it that obvious?”

She gave a tiny shrug, which Lee interpreted as a diplomatic yes. Great. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Good. Young people’s romantic troubles are so terribly boring.”

He huffed. “Thanks for the sympathy.” For a few moments, they both looked out toward where the sun had already set. There were only a few bars of gold above the horizon, but it was lighter than he expected. It was the nebula, he realized; even diffused through the cloud cover, it still radiated more light than he was accustomed to seeing at night. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and found she was studying him right back.

“You and . . . Captain Thrace?” she said delicately.

“Thought you weren’t interested.” 

“I saw her out earlier with her new husband. I offered them my congratulations. I did wonder what made her do that. And why now? She’s always been impulsive, but . . .”

He couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less than tell someone. But at the same time, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more. He tossed back a big gulp of booze, wincing at the burn, and said quickly, before he could lose his nerve, “Me, apparently. Something about sex on the beach and three little words. She ran away. I don’t know. Didn’t really get an explanation.”

It was unexpectedly a relief to tell someone, just to get it out, humiliating though it was. It had been pressing against the inside of his skull all day, ever since he’d woken up in the morning alone.

“Oh dear,” Laura murmured, full of wry sympathy.

He flourished with the flask. “That’s one way of putting it.”

She nodded, carefully and precisely, and then said quite clearly in that deeper voice, “Well, at least you got laid.”

He was so shocked he couldn’t speak for a second, couldn’t process that those words had come out of Laura Roslin’s mouth. “Excuse me?”

With a smile, she removed the flask from his hand and took a sip, then puffed from the cigarette with her other. “You should count yourself lucky. I haven’t had sex since before the Cylon attack, you know.”

“No, I did not know that.” He couldn’t contain a laugh from bubbling up. It was just too surreal. “Sorry, it’s just . . .”

She raised an eyebrow. “Not a conversation you ever expected to have?”

“Not exactly.”

“Seeing as how I’m no longer the President, I think I’m allowed to let loose a little.”

“We can blame the booze, too,” he said graciously. “It goes down—well, it doesn’t go down smooth, but it does go down.”

“That it does, Commander.”

“Lee,” he corrected.

“Lee,” she repeated with a private little smile, settling back against the rock. “So what are your plans, Lee? For whenever this bacchanalia reaches its natural conclusion.”

Here he was on surer footing. “I’ll be reporting back to the Galactica tomorrow.” His leave technically lasted two more days, but he knew Kara was planning on requesting more herself, so he couldn’t stay. It was a foregone conclusion. The uniform was always waiting for him, holding the promise of regularity, predictability, surety. His fingers almost itched with the urge to button it up again.

“So you’re planning to run away? That’s a shame.”

That stung. “The military is what I know. Better than anything else.” Better than Kara, for sure.

Her lips pursed. “That doesn’t mean it’s the only thing you can do.”

Mentally he ran through the list of jobs the fleet would need in the near future and couldn’t imagine what she was talking about. Not him becoming a farmer, surely. “Did you have something specific in mind?”

“Baltar’s election to the Presidency has left behind a void.”

It took a moment for him to understand. “His position on the Quorum? You don’t think—me?”

“I do.” She wasn’t joking, he realized. “Seriously. I already put your name forward, too.”

“You did?”

She smiled. “Don’t look so surprised. I still have some supporters in the fleet—and even the government.”

“Do you think I have a chance?”

She considered this. “It’s reasonably likely, I think. It will look like a gesture of goodwill to me, my supporters, and the military. Smooth things over, let them quiet down. He would appoint you only to fill out the remainder of his own term, of course, before the next Quorum election.”

“Two years from now. Right,” Lee said automatically. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Leave the military to put on a suit every day and—do what? Draft legislation? Go to meetings all day?

His thoughts were interrupted by a shout. Below them, in the valley proper, was a group of revelers who’d wandered off from the primary celebrations. They were waving up at him and Roslin, clearly filled to the brim with drunken fraternal cheer. They waved back.

“It appears our hideaway has been found,” she said from over his shoulder.

Lee shook his flask; there was no sound. “We’re out of booze. And I think we’re down to one last good draw on that cigarette.” She offered it to him, but he waved it away.

“Very chivalrous of you.” She finished it off and crushed it on the ground. “Walk me back?”

Back to the camp. Back to Galactica. Back to Kara. Gods. Part of him would rather run off into the mountains forever. Another, deeper part of him thought longingly about going to sleep right here and never waking up. But Laura Roslin was looking at him expectantly, so he got to his feet.

He was still more than a little tipsy, but he did his best to lead them safely down the trail. His best wasn’t that great, it turned out. More than once his efforts set Laura off laughing.

“Maybe I should be the one guiding you down,” she suggested, as he held her hands down a step he’d stumbled over moments before.

“I’ll go slow,” he promised with chagrin.

There was a twinkle in her eye. “That’s how I like it.”

Lee almost choked, and couldn’t look her quite in the eye, but she was clearly relishing his discomfort. Come to think of it, this was probably his first glimpse of Laura Roslin when she was truly off-duty. He couldn't say he disliked it.

Halfway down, she stopped him by putting a hand on his elbow. She gestured over the ships arrayed below them, at the milling crowds. “This is all going to be a city someday. Can you see it?”

“Not yet,” he said honestly.

“Me either. It’s going to take a lot of hard work.” She smiled. “Hopefully by good people.”


	2. Chapter 2

Even though he was on his way to her tent, her silhouette was so unfamiliar to him that at first glance his gaze flicked away, his mind registering her as a stranger. It was only when he looked again that he recognized her. She had done the same double-take at the sight of him, so that when their eyes met, they were both already smiling in chagrin.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” she said, making a vague gesture that encompassed him from head to toe.

He glanced down at himself: jeans, a button-up and a gray blazer. “I guess this is my new uniform now. It still feels weird to dress like a civilian, even if it’s been more than a month,” he confessed, fiddling with a cuff. “And what about you? Glad to get out of skirt-suits?”

Her voice was rich with feeling. “You cannot imagine. I went to the trading post almost as soon as it was open.” It was no wonder he hadn’t recognized her: she was wearing plain khakis, tennis shoes, and a long-sleeved shirt under a coat, and her hair had been pulled back with a scarf. Peeking out from the scarf was an inch of undyed hair, he noticed for the first time: her natural hair color was a plainer brown shot through with threads of gray.

“You look good. Practical,” he added with a smile.

“Heels aren’t exactly suitable for the mud, it turns out.”

“Were you heading somewhere? I came by to say hello, but I don’t want to interrupt.”

She looked at him speculatively. “I am going somewhere. You should come with me, though. I could use your help.”

“Anything.”

“Let’s walk.” She tucked her hand into his arm, and they set off. 

“It still hasn’t sunk in. Walking with real ground beneath our feet hasn’t gotten old yet.”

“We’ll get used to it soon enough.”

“You sound a little cynical.”

“If I’m a little cynical, I think I’ve earned it,” she returned. “And where, might I ask, are you staying?” 

“I’m aboard the Colonial One for now, with most of the representatives.”

Laura hummed in a register that wasn’t quite disagreement but was close.

“I didn’t really have anywhere else to go, after leaving the Galactica.” He studied her. “You have an idea?”

“Perhaps it isn’t really my place,” she murmured.

After everything, he still couldn’t think of anyone’s advice he’d rather have. “Just think of it as a constituent expressing herself to her representative.”

That earned him a smile. “You know Zarek isn’t staying aboard a ship—he has a tent, among the people—his people, he’s surrounded by Sagittarons.”

“You think I should do the same?”

“There are several sectors with predominantly Caprican ship settlements. Some of them still have space for more tents. It would give you a unique perspective on their needs. You’re representing them, after all.”

“It would mean Zarek isn’t the only one who can call himself a man of the people.”

“But it’s up to you. I’m not in politics anymore.” She made a lip-zipping motion.

“That’s hard to imagine.”

“Not if you knew me before. I had to be persuaded into it. Isn’t that funny? One little decision and my entire life might have turned out completely differently.”

He had often wondered about that himself. What if he hadn’t been assigned to the Galactica’s decommissioning ceremony? The possibility was, at this point, unimaginable. “Well, I for one am grateful. None of us would be here if it weren’t for you.”

She took him to a large tent and introduced it with a characteristically stately flourish. “My classroom.”

“Already?” He glanced around. There weren’t even that many residential units up yet; the Quorum had officially tabled the issue of schools until everyone had a place to sleep on the ground, which was taking longer than expected.

“High priority,” she said, and then lowered her voice confidentially. “Parents have been clamoring for some time away from their children.”

She held the flap open so he could enter. The classroom was empty save for a set of folding tables and chairs leaning against the tent’s supports. “Right now, it’s little more than a glorified daycare. No chairs, no materials, no desk—it’s almost as bad as when I did my student teaching.” She winked.

“What exactly do you teach?” Lee asked, realizing he never knew.

“On Caprica, it was history, geography, and social studies. Fourth grade. This time around I can’t be so selective, though.”

“No perks for the former President?” he teased.

She smiled wryly. “There are fewer than two thousand children in the fleet. And precious few teachers, either. The student-to-teacher ratio will not be ideal, I fear.”

“So do you want help setting everything up?” Lee removed his blazer and laid it over an unfolded chair.

Laura snagged one of his wrists and began unbuttoning. It was a warm, intimate gesture, though not particularly maternal. Pleasure was evident on her face, and it was easy to imagine her unbuttoning the cuffs of a lover, or adjusting his tie. Or husband? It occurred to him that he had no idea whether she had ever been married. His neck felt hot, so he loosened the collar of his shirt with his free hand.

After they arranged everything, he lingered, even though there were myriad excuses he could have made to take his leave. He took a seat at one of the tables, she sat on the table next to him, and he listened to her talk about her plans for the classroom. Any of his excuses would have been far less pleasant than hearing about the possibility of paint made from local plants.

At the same time, he couldn’t help but wonder: Was this what she really wanted? To be a schoolteacher? It was, he realized, the real question that had brought him to her, emboldened by her canny commentary on his choice of living space.

When he asked her, she replied, “I always loved being in the classroom—I missed it for many years after jumping tracks.”

“I don’t doubt that. Still . . . I guess I always wondered, if you weren’t the President, whether you would really be . . .”

She arched a brow. “Happy?”

“Satisfied,” he finished.

“Not content without the levers of power in hand? What you must think of me.” She wasn’t offended, but according to her pursed lips she wasn’t pleased, either.

He ran a hand over his tie, flattening it, and considered his answer. “It wasn’t a criticism. Really. You were good at it. Are good at it, I mean. Is it wrong to enjoy things you’re good at?”

“I’ll have to teach my students to be better at using appropriate verb tenses than you.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

She flicked his question away with her fingers.

“So what are you planning to do now?” he asked. “Aside from teaching, I mean. Any plans for life on New Caprica?”

Her voice softened. “I never thought I would be in this position. I always thought . . . well, this isn’t what I imagined.”

“I don’t think it’s what any of us imagined.”

She acknowledged this with a nod. “I plan to enjoy myself,” she declared after a pause. “I don’t know how long we’ll be here. Maybe a month or a year or a hundred years. But I’m free to do whatever I like with this time we’ve been given, and I don’t wish to have any regrets about it.” They shared a smile, and then she asked, “And what about you?”

He chuckled. “I think I’m going to be focused on the job for a while longer. I might have to come to you for lessons in politics.” At her inquiring look, he added, “Feels like I’m in over my head a little. You know, some things about government are pretty similar to the military—all those endless meetings, for example. But while the military has a strict hierarchy and system of authority . . .”

She smiled knowingly. “Civilian governance, not so much.”

“On my more charitable days, it feels like herding a colony of feral cats.”

“It’s a job you can only learn by doing. Although . . . the captain of the _Rising Star_ has a library of digitized books and distance readers. I don’t think there’s a _Dummy’s Guide to Being a People’s Representative_ , but maybe some of the tomes on politics, economics, or history might prove useful.” She paused. “If they don’t put you to sleep first.”

“I’ll put it on the list. Along with getting my father to give up some of my grandfather’s law books.”

“He’s feeling possessive?”

“Not of the books. Just about giving them to me, I think. We’re not exactly on speaking terms lately. He’s not happy with my decision to resign from the fleet.” He grimaced. 

“Ah. Your father can be . . . rather inflexible.” Aside perhaps from Kara, she was probably the person in the fleet who knew that as well as him.

“That’s a generous way of putting it.”

She leaned back on her hands, her gaze falling somewhere in the middle distance. “I’ve been thinking of doing more reading myself. And maybe writing, too.”

“What kind of writing?”

“I’m thinking of a book. A history of the attacks, and the fleet’s survival. I might ask you for an interview, though I’m sure you’ll be busy.”

“I’ll make time for you.”

“Even though it might be political suicide to be seen with me?” she teased.

“We’re friends.” As he said it, he realized it was true. She might even be the closest friend he had. He’d never made friends easily, and nothing about the Cylon attacks—and being the CAG for so long—had changed that.

“That’s good to hear.” She gave him an unreadable smile and pushed herself off the table. Lee took that as his cue to rise as well, and she walked him to the door—or rather, the tent flap.

Ten yards away, he heard her call out behind him. “Lee?”

When he turned, she was still for a moment, salt-and-pepper hair framing her face. Then with a smile she mouthed, _I did enjoy it._


End file.
